The Whirling Storm Of Evil

From the dark recluse in my thatched mud hut I barricaded myself; with the palm of my hands pressing tightly against my ears, vainly trying to shut out the mournful tune of the dirge playing at the village square on the Ekere drum

The wind, like a harbinger of evil news, hung in the air over the thatched roof of my hut, bearing the mourning cry of the women from the distance, occasionally punctured by an equally dreadful hooting of the night owl

A soul has departed from among the living and the evil spirits from the dark realm have come to usher the departing soul of the dead, home Leaving a pulsating dread and gloom, that pervades the psychic of the children in our ancient kingdom

Our childhood dreadful evil has now metamorphosed into mortal being, pervading our world in abandoned recklessness; visiting every home and nation with a satanic cruelty that leaves us soaked in frightful dread No clime is spared from these marauding diseased beings

How did mankind plunge himself into this abyss of barbaric culture and life style, that is threatening to consume our race And yet, we pretend all is fair and well, while the whirling Storm of evil, being let loose in our shores from the fringe of hell, is wreaking unimaginable murder and mayhem that is likened to the great tribulation

It is time for those with the light to shine their light stronger and brighter, from shore to shore; in every home and city to chase away this malaise, attired in a mortal cloak, terrorizing the human race Lest, like an enveloping mist, the darkness will spread over our world, and the light we’ve hidden under our bushel Then, our land will be trodden under the sodden feet of evil.

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